


Cope

by iridiumring92



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Major Character Injury, Post-Altissia, Spoilers, hella angst I didn't mess around, it's really sad I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 03:18:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11153133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iridiumring92/pseuds/iridiumring92
Summary: Together the two of them were sheer desolation.





	Cope

**Author's Note:**

> I heard it through the grapevine that we needed more angsty ignoct fics. I wrote this a couple months ago and I was worried that it'd be too depressing to post, but I figured why not.
> 
> The preface to this is that Ignis and Noct have been together for a little while (but low-key hiding it from the other two), and that they slept together in Altissia, when Noctis convinced the others to let him have a separate room. And then everything happened. With Leviathan, Luna, Ignis's injuries. These scenes follow.
> 
> On repeat while I wrote this were Bastille's [Oblivion,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PF-_H54mydE) Cloves' [Don't Forget About Me,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dnaH788dMtg) and Joy Williams' [Ordinary World.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3jSFNJ8C3ZI)

Noctis woke up in that room in Altissia. In the same bed where he’d fallen asleep beside Ignis just nights before.

Luna was gone.

The Ring of the Lucii was cold in his hand.

“Awake, are we, Noct?” a soft, accented voice asked from across the room. Ignis’s voice. He turned to Noctis, and Noctis’s eyes widened as he realized what he saw—lacerations, barely healed, disfiguring his face. One wound ran through his eyebrow and the middle of his left eyelid, and another took up half the right side of his face, the jagged edges peeking out from behind the dark lenses of his glasses.

“Ignis,” Noctis breathed, dropping the ring. It fell and hit the notebook beside him, where it wobbled and stopped. “You’re wounded.”

“It’s nothing,” Ignis said, but Noctis could hear the strain in his voice. “A small sacrifice, really. I should inform the others you’re up.”

For a moment Noctis couldn’t respond. It was as though the air had been knocked from his lungs. Luna, the ring, and now . . . now _this?_ Now the Six wanted to take Ignis from him, too? He felt tears threatening in his eyes, and his voice broke as he said, “ _No_ , Ignis, wait.”

Ignis paused at the door and turned toward him, though he couldn’t actually see Noctis. What had happened to those lovely green eyes, that tender gaze Ignis had so often bestowed on him? Noctis clenched his hands into fists to try and stop them from shaking, but it didn’t work.

When Ignis neared the edge of the bed, Noctis took his hand and tugged him gently closer, guiding him until he could sit down without fear of falling. He reached up to turn Ignis’s face toward his, hands sliding first along his jaw before letting one thumb venture to his mouth to trace the single new scar on his lower lip. When Ignis didn’t object to any of this, Noctis let his hands drift up to his glasses. But as soon as he tried to pull them away, one of Ignis’s gloved hands flew to Noctis’s wrist, stopping him.

“Don’t,” he said.

“Ignis, please.”

“I don’t want you to see me like this.”

Noctis’s lips were trembling, the tears in his eyes stinging. “I don’t care. Don’t you remember what I said to you before?” Ignis’s face remained expressionless. “I love you. I _need_ you. I’m not going to stop now. Please.”

After a moment, Ignis relented, and Noctis drew the glasses away from his face, placing them beside the ring. He studied the wounds for a moment, blinking in an attempt to clear his vision, before he gave up and let the tears fall. One hand brushed Ignis’s jaw.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, following the edges of the wounds carefully with his mouth, as if he could heal them by doing so. He knew there was no such hope. He traced the outlines of the largest scars before moving on to the others—the small one on the bridge of his nose, the even smaller one on his lower lip.

When his lips brushed Ignis’s, Noctis tasted salt. As if Ignis had been crying. No—he _was_ crying, the tears slipping from behind his eyelashes and down his face. Noctis leaned into the kiss as if he could take away the rest of those tears somehow, erase the pain, but he carried too much pain of his own. Together the two of them were sheer desolation.

“I want to see you,” Ignis said, his voice little more than a hiss of breath. “I just wish I could see you.”

 _I’m sorry,_ Noctis tried again, but his throat felt like it was closing, and the words wouldn’t come. He held Ignis to him for several long moments, taking in his warmth and the tears they both shed, trying to remind himself that they were alive.

 

* * *

 

Cartanica Station looked like it had been forsaken by the Six, surrounded as it was by old mines and ravaged land. When Noctis stepped off the train, he tried to stay focused on their purpose there—the royal tomb that lay far below and beyond. But even after all these weeks he couldn’t think of anything besides Ignis. The scars that marred his once-perfect face, the way he hid them behind dark glasses, the way he’d become silent and withdrawn even around the three of them. He seemed to avoid Noctis at all costs. At every chance they’d had to be alone, Ignis had found some reason to excuse himself from the situation.

Noctis had wanted to scream at the Six on more than one occasion, demanding to know why they insisted on taking everything from him.

He wandered around the station for a while, reluctant to drag the others to the royal tomb just yet. He could see Prompto standing by the elevator that led down to the mines, but there was no sign of Ignis or Gladio. Noctis stopped near where Prompto stood, staying a safe distance away.

“Where are the other two?” he asked, quietly.

Prompto turned to look at him. “They’re that way,” he said, pointing. “At the dining car, last I saw.”

“Thanks.” Noctis started to turn away, but Prompto reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

“Hey, Noct,” he said quietly, “are you okay?”

Noctis pressed his lips together. “For our purposes,” he answered, “I’m fine.”

“Noct—” Prompto’s tone demanded that he wait, but Noctis didn’t. He turned and walked away, clenching his hands into fists, fighting back the tears that burned his eyes.

He slipped into the dining car that Prompto had indicated and scanned the seats lining the wall. He could see Ignis and Gladio sitting across from each other near the middle, neither speaking. Slowly, Noctis moved down the aisle until he reached their table. As soon as Gladio saw him, he shot Noctis a glare that had the strength not of daggers but of a broadsword. Still Noctis forced himself to stand up straight, forced his voice to stay steady and the tears not to fall.

“Ignis,” he said. “I need to talk to you.”

“Whatever it is, you can say it with me here.” Gladio’s tone was a warning.

Ignis shook his head. “No,” he said quietly. “It’s all right. We’ll be back soon.”

Gladio looked like he wanted to object to that, or even demand that Ignis stay, but instead he just fixed his blade-sharp glare on Noctis. Ignis reached for his cane and pushed himself to his feet while Noctis waited, deliberately avoiding Gladio’s eyes.

Once they were on the other side of the station and out of earshot of anyone who might eavesdrop, Noctis lightly touched Ignis’s arm, signaling to him to stop. He drew in a breath and began, “Ignis, look—”

“Noct,” Ignis said, his voice much quieter but still commanding. “Things are over between us.”

“What?” His voice caught, and he bit his lip hard, trying to keep the tears from welling up again. He felt the first one slip down his cheek anyway, and angrily he swiped at it. “You can’t mean that.”

“I mean it.” His tone was so controlled, his face so impassive. As if he really _didn’t care._ “I will just be a burden to you, Noct. I can’t do that to you. It would be worse than selfish of me.” He turned his head, so that if he’d had the full use of his vision, he would’ve been looking over the railing beside them. “And I can’t imagine you’d want to be with a blind man,” he added, almost under his breath.

“Ignis, don’t _say_ that.” Noctis reached for his hand, but Ignis pulled it back just as their fingers brushed. “Your wounds could still heal. And even if they didn’t . . . it wouldn’t matter. I’d still want you.” He was crying now, and couldn’t stop, didn’t even try to wipe the tears from his face. “I’d still want you,” he said again.

Ignis shook his head. “There’s no way, Noct,” he said. “It can’t work. I’m sorry.”

He turned his back on Noctis, leaving him staring at his retreating form. Noctis called out his name, but he didn’t turn back.

His legs trembled, and Noctis had to reach back and take hold of the railing behind him for balance, so that he would stay on his feet. He could barely see through the tears that blurred his vision. What would Gladio say, if he were here to witness this stunning display of weakness? He swiped at his eyes again, willing himself to calm down.

Eventually he found the strength to walk across the station and back to the others. He told himself it would never have worked anyway.

He was the king of Lucis, after all.

 

* * *

 

In the ten agonizing years that passed while Noctis slept, Ignis realized he shouldn’t have let him go.

But it was too late for such thoughts, and he woke up every morning reminding himself that somewhere, though asleep, Noctis was still alive. When his sight didn’t return and he began to admit to needing assistance with things he would’ve been able to do on his own before, he told himself every time that it was for Noct. That had Noct been there, that was what he would have asked of him, too.

Later, people would ask Ignis why he still fought, when the world was so dangerous even to those who had full use of their vision. Aloud he told them he was used to it. The answer he repeated silently to himself every time was different.

When the darkness vanished, Noctis would vanish with it.

 

* * *

 

One of those days—no, not days, every day was now a long night—it finally happened. Noctis returned.

Once again, Ignis was struck by the sheer pain of the fact that he couldn’t see Noct. He’d resigned himself to not being able to touch him, either—after all this time, and after how they’d parted ways, he doubted Noct would find it appropriate. “You kept us waiting,” was all he could think to say, praying his voice didn’t sound as pinched as it felt.

Silence answered him at first, but he heard Noct’s boots against the pavement, closing the distance between them. And the next thing he knew, Noctis’s lips were whispering against his. “Not like I wanted to.”

Beyond them, he heard Prompto’s surprised and nervous laughter, and Gladio’s voice saying softly, “What the hell . . . ?” But he decided he was past caring, and he pulled Noctis against him, tears already stinging his eyes.

“I take it back,” Ignis said, his voice hoarse. “What I said. All of it.”

Noctis let out a small surprised laugh. “Ten years ago?” When Ignis nodded, he said, “I forgave you, Ignis. I still do.”

He took a step back, and Ignis felt his absence immediately, a rush of cold where there had been warmth. Gladio spoke up from behind Noctis. “Iggy, don’t tell me you really hid this from us for _ten years_.”

“There was no reason for me to say anything,” Ignis defended quietly.

“You had every reason.”

“We’d just lost Noct. It would have been cruel of me to bring it up. And besides, it wasn’t as if I could consult him about whether to mention it.” He felt Noctis’s hand on his arm, an attempt at reassurance, but he’d forgotten how to calm down. “You would have never been able to look at me the same way again.”

“Ignis, I—” Gladio began, but after a second Ignis heard him exhale and take a step back, giving up.

“Hey, let’s go inside,” Prompto said. “We obviously have some catching up to do.”

The others agreed, and Ignis felt the ghost of a touch at his elbow as they walked in the direction of the diner. He thought about telling Noctis he didn’t need guidance anymore, as after all these years he’d become used to navigating the darkness, but at the same time, he’d missed Noctis’s touch.

Their conversations lasted hours, but after a while the four of them finally lapsed into silence. Ignis felt the gentle pressure of a hand on his arm, and then Noctis’s voice said, “If you’ll give us a minute . . .”

“Sure,” Gladio said. His tone was still grudging, but not as much so as Ignis had expected.

Noctis led him back outside. When he stopped walking, Ignis sensed they were near the caravans, where several weather-beaten chairs and tables still stood. But rather than sit down, Noctis turned and pulled Ignis into a sudden, unexpected embrace, his hands grasping at the back of Ignis’s jacket.

“God, I missed you.” Noctis’s voice trembled.

“You were asleep,” Ignis said, slipping his arms around Noctis, one hand beginning to trace slow circles between his shoulder blades.

“I dreamed about you. About all of you. All I wanted . . .” Noctis paused to draw breath, and Ignis realized he was trying not to cry. It was a losing battle. “I just wanted to see everyone again. To tell all of you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. And to remind you . . .” He stopped again, his voice breaking. “That I love you.”

“Noct . . .”

“I know,” he said. “I know. They wouldn’t have let us stay together. But I don’t _care_. For every second I have left in this life, I’ll still feel the same. So—please. Just stay with me. Until the end.” By the time he finished speaking, his voice was an agonized whisper, hoarse and desperate.

Ignis told himself not to move. Everything would be fine if he stayed right where he was and held Noctis through his pain. But all that fear and anger and grief he’d been trying so hard to bury since Altissia burst out from somewhere deep within him, shattering him, scattering the pieces. He reached behind him, feeling for a chair, and collapsed into the first one he found.

His eyes burned, and his chest ached in a place too deep to describe.

“I withdrew because I wanted to spare you this, Noct,” he said. “But I can’t—I don’t think I can live without you. I’ve tried, but nothing is the same. And that thought is what has pained me for the last ten years, no matter how much I’ve tried to pretend otherwise.”

“I know,” Noctis said. His voice still trembled slightly, but he’d regained some of his control. “Me, too. But that’s what I need you to do, Ignis. I need you to live.”

With shaking hands, Ignis pulled off his glasses, casting them roughly to the table beside him. He pressed his hands to his eyes, swiping away stray tears. He couldn’t let himself do this. “I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t. I’m sorry, Noct. I’ve failed you.”

“Ignis,” Noct’s voice said, and he felt the warmth of Noctis’s body, closer, hands coming to rest on his shoulders. “Don’t even think that. You have _never_ done anything to fail me.”

“I let myself lose my sight.” Ignis’s voice was unsteady, the same as he was. He felt as if he were breaking into a thousand pieces, slowly. “During that battle in Altissia. I was of no use to you. For weeks. You three had to help me walk a straight line.”

“Do you think I only kept you close to me because you were _of use?_ ” Noctis demanded. A heartbeat later, his voice dropped to a whisper, his tone much softer. “Losing your sight wasn’t your fault. And you aren’t worth any less to me because of that.” Ignis felt the gentle touch of Noctis’s lips at his temple, brushing against the edges of the scars, just as he’d done when they’d first been reunited after everything that had happened in Altissia.

Noctis trailed slow, careful kisses across his jaw, pausing only at the corner of Ignis’s mouth. Before, Ignis might have turned to him, might have made the next move, but now he couldn’t. And when Noctis did kiss him next, he barely lasted a moment before he collapsed. He broke the kiss, his shoulders shaking, breaths hitching, tears stinging his eyes again. Noctis slid to his knees so that he could pull Ignis into his arms.

“I’m terrified,” Noctis said. “I have no idea what’s going to happen. I don’t know how it’ll happen, or what it’ll feel like. I’ve never been so scared in my life.” His lips brushed the skin just below Ignis’s ear as he spoke. “Now I know how you must’ve felt.”

Ignis shook his head, the motion so slight that it would have been undetectable to anyone but Noct.

“We’re in this together, Ignis. Like we always have been,” Noctis whispered. “Please. When I’m gone, find some way to keep going. Some way to move on without me.”

“That’s where you don’t understand.” Ignis’s voice came out little more than a choked whisper. “These last ten years have been so dark. Without you, I have nothing. I would rather die than live another ten years alone.”

Noctis pressed another brief kiss to Ignis’s skin. “You don’t have to be alone,” he whispered.

“Then take me with you.”

After a moment, Noctis denied him in a soft voice, with a simple “No.” It hurt more than it should have.

“I can’t let you throw your life away like that,” Noctis whispered. “Not for me. You deserve more than that, Ignis. My work will be done, but you have everything ahead of you.”

“I’m not a child, Noctis. Everything I have ever done has been for you. I can’t just change that now.” He reached out, his hand resting against Noctis’s chest. “I need you.”

“I’m sorry.” His king’s voice was gentle, but it felt like cold steel piercing his chest nonetheless. “If you can’t live for me, live for yourself. You deserve to, after all this time.”

Ignis took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, hoping to quiet the roaring in his ears. He couldn’t keep Noctis here, no matter how hard he tried. And he knew it—but the abyssal chasm of loss that he looked into was too much to bear. Noctis was his only light, and without him, the world would be irredeemably dark.

“I’d never imagined you would someday be the reasonable one,” he finally said. Noctis laughed, but Ignis could still hear the pain in his voice.

“When you’re ready,” Noctis murmured, “we should get back to the others.” At Ignis’s slight sigh, he added, “Take your time.”

 

* * *

 

He held Noctis in his arms for the last time in Insomnia, when the four of them paused to sleep for a few precious hours before entering the Citadel. They pressed close to one another on one of the narrow military-issue beds, the true king and his would-be advisor. The two others in his guard slept in two of the other beds on the opposite side of the room, still, their backs turned.

Noctis and Ignis kept whispering to each other long after the others had fallen asleep, both wanting to rest but afraid of what waking would mean. Ignis was despairing, begging Noctis not to let go, but Noctis was far calmer, comforting. After all those nights he’d spent trying to reassure the young prince so many years ago, Ignis could hardly believe Noctis was the one comforting _him_. But his words were calming, and as exhaustion claimed him, Ignis began to understand. Noctis had accepted this. He understood that this was his path, and he had decided to walk it without looking back. Admirable for a boy who had once been afraid of his duties.

 _All right, Noctis,_ he thought. _If you will fulfill this fate that has been set before you, then so shall I._

He knew that in a few hours, they would be standing in the ruined Citadel again, before their enemy. But Noctis would be beside him then.

And right now, Ignis needed nothing more than to have him in his arms.

_Farewell, Noctis._

_For you, the light of dawn will be ever brighter._

**Author's Note:**

> This literally doesn't fix anything and I'm sorry. But. Chapter 9 breaks me into a thousand pieces every time and I had to write something about it.
> 
> I'll be around on [tumblr](https://iridiumring92.tumblr.com/) as usual. Otherwise, I'm open to hearing any thoughts in the comments. . . .


End file.
